A sharp tongue comes with broken hearts.

And it keep it there, between your legs while
I use my other hand to explore the soft curves of your back while
I gently start moving my kisses away from your lips
And towards your collar bones while
I listen to you gasp and moan in pleasure and ecstasy.

A taste of my own medicine,
Incites a spasm,
Convulsion,
Remembrance,

The pill was sudden,
Hard to swallow,
And it stung the whole way down,

My antidote became my venom,
And an old color was spilled,
A scar torn open,

No regrets.

-May 24th 2013

The woman had legs.
The room gasped when she entered.
The woman had hair.
Red curls past her shoulder.
Lips, eyes, and skin too.
The woman had assets.

But she was not mine, nor any others.

Sometimes I just stop,
I dream of those frostbite eyes,
And sigh a deep sigh.

It went by in blinks,
You were there, here, and then gone,
Just like that I lost.

I dreamt of your face,
Your raven hair, your snow skin,
Dreamcatcher broken.

Drowned my ears with words,
My paper with fragile strokes,
And my eyes with loss.

Your laugh was rapture,
A world away from this earth,
Comfort in the clouds.

Your arm is bloodless,
Your smile is showing and bright,
For this, I’m content.

‘I miss you’ is weak,
I feel much more than just that,
I starve for your warmth.

Love’s progressive chords,
A curve in the beat, ******,
All advance halted.

Your name is beauty,
‘Katriana’ my tongue sings,
Your face to match name.

-March 2013

The summer air is cooling gradually,
The peaches are off their trees,
The leaves are preparing for autumn,
But it’s still only you I see.

And winter will gladly come,
We will be in school all day long,
I will spend the hours dreaming
Writing and singing your song.

Remember when you stopped,
So suddenly where we were,
You kissed me,
        I smiled,
I had a disease and you’re my cure,

Thank you, Beau.

Soft sand, the Orchid stands,
Or sits rather.
I miss her, the Orchid.
I miss her, the Peach.
I miss her, the Rebel.
I miss her, the Dream.

Soft like sand, I lay and draw lines.
Lines and lines.

One must lead to her.
Soft as the finest sand, Egyptian cotton.

Soft like skin. Soft like pedals.
Soft like love, I miss her.

You're going to read this wrong,
Every single one of you.
Because you are not me,
And you cannot see what I'm saying.

No amount of stressed syllables in these lines can
ever describe what it means.
To me.
Why I wrote it.
Why I let you read it.

You will never understand
My understanding.

And that's okay.

Compass of steel and chain,
Around your neck you sit.
The points you show feign,
They never fit.

Lying so gently,
Laying so gently,
Benignly fading,
Mentally.

I can't fade the North I know,
Evident are the seeds she's sown.
If only if only
I weren't so lonely.

The Ocean
*exists.

-Part 3, December 9th-

Jami Belle.
My True love.
She entered my life at random, miscellaneously speaking with her about her beauty, injecting more flirtation, as is my way.
Then one day I started to stress. The woman I was trying to court, the one with the gorgeous name too beautiful to be spoken, I was falling for her. Far too quickly. And I needed to let her know, I needed to advance the relationship.
I was panicking. I don’t know why, but, I chose a girl at random, the most beautiful I could see at the time, and I began to ask her advice. I wanted to know from a beautiful woman’s perspective what I should do.
She, Belle, told me I should just walk straight up to her and kiss her right on the face. The thought of it made me turn red with embarrassment. It was such a bold move, could it work?
I asked if she was serious, and sure enough she was. This (at the time) blonde woman I chose at random was telling me to march right up the this girl I was head-over-heels for, and kiss her.
I never did. But for some reason, I fell in love with Jami Belle. I still feel guilty for leaving the gorgeous name behind, but, this woman, was something more.

She sent me a preposterous photo of her making this awfully crude face akin to a duck. And my heart melted. This drop dead beautiful girl I don’t even know just exposed herself in one of the most vulnerable poses I’ve ever seen. I loved her. I wanted her. And I told her.
I didn’t pull my usual ******* and just, try to manipulate her into being in a relationship with me. I told her “I’m falling for you, Jami.”

The next couple weeks were spent wooing her. Constant messaging. Exchanging of truths and flirtations. Then one day, I was sitting in a park, surrounded by amazing music, perfect weather, and I told her “I’m sitting here, surrounded by beautiful people, and I can only think of you.”
I think that’s when she fell for me. Thank god. My chest exploded every night thereafter.

The next two months were spent in love. Complete love. Kissing and snogging and exchanging the most sacred of ourselves to each other. Promises. Embraces. Comfort. True love.
She was in my dreams, almost every night. I loved remembering those dreams. She was my everything.
We had some bumps, who doesn’t? She left me for a bit, we kissed and made up. She told me she couldn’t be rid of me. I melted.
-Note here, This isn’t some ****** teen drama. This may legitimately be the rest of my life.-
Time passed, we were good again. I told her, I asked her “Will you marry me someday?” She made sure I heard her yes.

I ended up with some jewelry for her, A red beaded bracelet and a ring of steel woven like a Celtic knot. I suppose It was a planned promise ring.

She and I... Started to go downhill. As the temperatures dropped, so did both of our emotions. We both seeped slowly into depression and neither knew what to do.
She lives many many miles away. Some nights I lay awake thinking that if she were just a little closer, it could have been better, but no. We both seeped lower.
I couldn’t get her my gifts. She couldn’t get me hers.
We slowed talking. Soon neither of us had anything to say.
She began to ignore me. I can’t blame her; life was terrible, and nothing could be said.
I was terrified of her. She could break my heart, my will, my name and my power at any given moment; through ignoring me, or responding curtly. I was horrified of what we had become.
This didn’t feel like the true love it once was.

Eventually I became convinced that our love was dead. I was in shambles. I cried a little every day thinking of it, deciding if it were true.
Then an  influential figure of mine got me to begin speaking on the subject. Soon, I poured every detail I cared to tell to him, about how I felt, was feeling and all of it. I cried so hard, I don’t know how to describe. I was hysterical. This was the worst I’d ever felt. And it was my fault. I was deciding to end it (with the major influence of this figure I was speaking with). He told me he was shocked, not thinking I was that deeply in love. Me said how he hadn’t felt a heartbreak, a TRUE heartbreak like this until he was in his 20s. I was only 16.
I poured the water. I decided.
It must be dead. She didn’t love me anymore.

I needed closure. I wrote to her, telling her things I shouldn’t have. Absolutes about our relationship, our present, and our future. I spoke to her of her strength, her perfection, how she will always be wanted and loved. It was impossible not to.
And I walked away. I tried to grow. I tried to learn.

I put bandages on my wounds. They began to heal. And scar. Scar deeply.

I got to the point where I could finally flirt with girls again. They jumped on that train and took much of a liking to me. It was nice to feel the attention again, but every time I did, I could really only remember the compliments and sayings and kisses Jami gave to me.
I was still in love.
I was trapped in a purgatory. I had said goodbye, forever; but my heart screamed for her.

Then the astounding happened. She texted me. “Marshall?”
I began to pour water from my eyes and sob silently. “Jami, I need you,” I screamed to myself.

It was slow. There were a lot of revelations between both of us. Truths, some great, others... destroying, obliterating. But she was back. She loved me.
I loved her.
Always, and forever.
The most gorgeous, the most perfect woman in the world. Mine.

Maybe yet.
--

Dreaming away my days and nights,
You’re always in sight,
The prospect of you drives me,
No other place I’d rather be.

Craving like no other,
Necessity within me,
Needing you so much,
I can barely see.

Your light is bright,
Guiding me gently,
Through the waters in life,
Through this great sea.

And when my oceans are blue,
I have one levity, you.

I really miss you, Bella.
I wish you hadn't left.
You taught me to be proud,
that who I am is my own best.

You said we all live
Under the same moon.
Those we vowed to never see,
We would see more than soon.

You taught me kissing's fun
And ******* great
And *** doesn't mean
That you are bound by fate.

You said so many things,
Signed one golden thought,
Packed up with your family
And went to where you sought.

I miss you Bella.

How do you expect me sleep
With you circling every thought.

Like the leaves of autumn,
You're everywhere I walk.

And stepping on these leaves of yours
Produces my favorite sound.

Tonight that sound is too loud to sleep through.

He stands there against the silhouette of orange glow.

Hammering steel, sweating.
Hands aching slightly more each time.
"Fuerte."

He retires from his workshop.
*Duerme, "Fuerte," duerme.

The smell of my mother
was
Cigarette smoke of cigs targeted towards independent women
was
Perfume of a woman too old to accept the fact that she's aging
was
Clothes from the early 90s and mid 80s which all smelled the same
was
Skin which smelled yellow from her habits
was
Breath which smelled the same
was
Red lipstick
was
Hair dye
was
Lies.

I wrapped the suicide note around my throat,
It came in the form of a noose.
But before I knew what I wanted to do,
I had somehow wiggled loose.
The stool's too short for this overpowering court,
"Back to my old resorts."

*******
Arsonist
Regrettable
Stupid
Horrible
Arrogant
Loser
Lia­r

Manly
All-knowing
Right
****
Handy
Awesome
Likable
Level-heade­d

People wonder why I forgive.
I wonder why they don't.
Mistakes are taken.
They happen.
It is a duty,
A necessity to forgive.
To apologize for others,
When they won't for herself.

My dad asks me why I let myself get used,
I tell him
We use amazing things every day and smile.
He doesn't get it.

Every plus has a minus.

I...
I moan...
    Like a dog.
I don’t have control.

I...
I cry...
    From my eyes.
Every ******* night.

Regret...
So much...
    But I need to see.
I need to test me.

Why did I have to say yes then.
Why did I have to... To bend.
Cause now it hurts more than ever,
I bent my heart backwards like a lever.
Never...

Looking out the window,
I can’t see.
Looking into the night,
I have no sight.
Looking into the past,
I thought this would last,
Looking into your eye,
I didn’t think I would cry,

Last night was my test, It was my hell.
Last week was my start, Ripping out my heart.
Taken away,
I can’t stay!

Lightning and thunder and little pitter patter,
Snowfall and coffee and Halloween masks,
Orange and red and all the color leaves,
Couldn’t distract from that beauty you hold,

Like complimenting colors the world turns,
The sun shines from all angles upon you,
Whispering those soft secrets in my ear,
You’re like a new color on the painter’s palette.

A color I call Beau.

-July 8th 2013

I remember the December weather,
I wore a smile outside your door,
They locked you out, but you weren't shocked,
I was, but I knew it must have been my chance,
So I acted cute, I was grateful,
But I wanted you, I was faithful,

Hand shake? Hug?
None of that;
A kiss on my cheek,
My legs went fleet,

I nearly fell over on the December ice, outside your home.
You look best during winter, although your summer shoulders make me smile.

I can’t Victoria,
I can’t top hat,
I can’t ballroom,
Sorry,
I’m not classic.

No white gloves, walking sticks,
    or carriages
    for me.

I’d much rather float round town on a craft,
    of hover and light
    and love.
I can’t play this game one step at a time,
Tradition will be broken,

I’m sorry.

-June 14th 2013

I feel like a tool,
A pen, knife or wrench,
Applied for her will,
Twisted to her gain,
But I tell you now,
    wing turned black,
I will not let you use me,
    never again will you torque me,
    never again will I bend to your will.
So you know,
    for a handyman,
    you don’t know a hammer from a nail.

Home again.

I hold the door, and sigh. Holding my axe in one hand,
Orange, white, and red plaid shirt. Chin covered in stubble.
A warm fire inside. My sweetheart reading by the hearth.
A glance up. Her light blue eyes, so inviting.
Her smile.

I enter.
And rest.

You see, Demons always come back,
All the demons you make, gain or trail,
All the wrongs you do, befriend and send,
Find a way to make you fail,



Your self-righteous backstabbing ways,
Will always turn the knife around,
And before you can stop it,
You’ll be dead without a sound,



And the commandments you say you praise,
Will fall with the weight of the sun,
And crush your hopes and dreams,
And your longed for days with God will never come,



And if he really is up there, watching,
He sees how evil his child, you, are,
And if he really is sitting, judging,
He will see you far less than a star,
    But the black hole your hearts are.

-July 2nd 2013

I didn't get much sleep last night
I wish you could guess why,
I couldn't get my heart off you
I couldn't control my mind.

When I consider your smile and laugh
The
Butterflies don't fly away
For lack of a better term they stay,
And
Grow.

That honey you call your hair,
The way your face wrinkles while you laugh,
You are something else entirely
An entity unable to be enumerated,
Entrapped, encroached upon,
Earthly, eager, but unearthy,
Eloquent and effortless,
Elevated above others.

To put it lightly,
I favor you.
and Admire.

But roses are indeed red.
Usually because my wandering hands doubt the keenness of their thorns.
Similar to how I doubt the sharpness of my love.
Red with passion, then with pain.

Still, beautiful.

Curses through the misty air of my dream,
Within my brightest thoughts, darkness in light,
If I stand here and stare I see black sheen,
Enjoy my brightest day till dark brings night,
The sun doesn't shine in a sinner's mind,
It has no right to levy heavy tax,
No lost mind can find what lay saints find,
Any gold I find must be only flax,
The music in my ears is a sobbing,
The sight in mine eyes is an aching hue,
The pain in my human skull is throbbing,
The color to escape my head is blue,
Don't leave my head here to turn inside out,
Don't leave me alone to the point I shout.

Amor,
Affection,
Beautiful,
Body,
Contours,
Curves,
Devilish,
Del­ightful,
Enormous
Epiphanies,
☺☺☺☺
Feel,
Gratitude,
Great,
Home,
­Hot,
Illumination,
Idolism,
Jealous,
Jiggly :),
Kind,
Kisses,
Lovely,
Laborless,
Me,
Moving,
Night,
New,
Over­,
Opulence,
Pretty,
Precious,
Queen,
Quirk,
Revel,
Repeat,
Sensit­ive,
Succubus,
Ticklish,
Time,
Under,
Undressed,
View,
Veins,
Won­derful,
Winter,
X is a bad letter,
Yonder,
You,
Zealous,
Zippers.

The glow of neon lights illuminates the spot he stands,
It is raining and their reflections are quite clear on the ground,
Using one hand propped up against a street sign,
The other holding an almost invisible, dark umbrella,
One leg crossed fashionably over the other,
Long coat, hood up, shadowed face underneath,
    He waits.

Cars go by, all of any color, but really just one color; darkness,
They reflect the seafoam green, and cherry red lights of the lining shops,
The venders are fast asleep, for the hour is late,
Their shops are closed, but the lights show on,
The nearby pedestrians glance up at the man, the signs, but walk on,
But one girl, white coat, black hair, face in her phone,
    Walked
    Right
    Into him.

He felt it, she felt it; there was a shock between their hearts,
For one split second, they shared a soul, a past, a future,
Neither said anything, they just, stared into each other,
The light shined in her stormy blue and his oak brown eyes,
Mouths agape, he slowly started to smile,
“It’s been awhile since I saw an angel on Earth,”
    She gleamed.

“I knew I was waiting for something, didn’t know it was you-
Come with me.”

She went.

¡Cinco por ella!

I really want us to work out,
I want to see you,
I really want to see you out,

I want to show you something;
To see why I love you,
There’s something great about loving,

    Your brown hair, brown eyes,
    Your gorgeous smile, gorgeous eyes,
    
You’re new to me, *but not really.

When I'm with you,
*My hard shell
Turns soft and human.

My vow has been taken,
To not speak too much.

Glazed black marbles,
Striking black suit.
He helps me sleep.

“Please leave your message after the tone.”

Beep

“I just, needed to remind you that I love you and I think of you constantly, and I’m having a deja vu, but, I- I don’t know if this one will end badly, but the last one did.”

Beep bop doop don beep boop boop

Ringing

“Please leave your message after the tone.”

Beep

“Hey, I don’t know what good it is to tell you I’m sitting on a corner, alone, in the rain just, shivering. But, I miss you. I miss you like a flower misses the sun. Like an ear misses sound. Like a heart misses lo-”


*Love.

I feel like a tool,
A pen, knife or wrench,
Applied for her will,
Twisted to her gain,
But I tell you now,
    wing turned black,
I will not let you use me,
    never again will you torque me,
    never again will I bend to your will.
So you know,
    for a handyman,
    you don’t know a hammer from a nail.

-June 15th 2013

I just wanted to let you know, that.
Well, I'm working on forgiving myself.
It's getting easier. I'm getting healthier.
I laugh more. I look around more.
I see the world for its beauty, not its pain.
I love life. I love how the sun rises and the earth spins.
I love my books and my dad and my puppy in puppy heaven.
I love my soul, and Tyler's soul and my grandparents. And many more.
And I don't think I love you and that's okay. I was wrong. You were right about me being wrong.
Love isn't the only thing that matters.
I used to believe it was.

I was wrong. And that's okay.
Life is a learning lesson and I'm only 16 years and 340 days old.
I've got a lot of learning to do.

I won't cut again. I'm sorry I did. But I like this new scar.
It feels cool and looks cool and I like what it reminds me of.
Because most memories of you are pleasant even though they're terrifying and I hate them. To clarify: you didn't make me cut.
You were just added weight to my trigger.
Especially. The uh. Hm. That one thing that you only told two people or so you told me.

I miss Belle. She was my best friend.
I love her to death. Always will.

And I miss the Faith that was once my best friend but she doesn't exist anymore.
She had ***. Almost with three different men, I was almost one of them. But she had *** with just one. I hope.

I drink more water nowadays. It helps clean my system. I write less poetry. And that's okay.

I'm reading Fight Club. I can relate a lot to it. ****-
                                                                                       rule No. 1.
I'm doing more school work. I'm done with work next week.
I miss taking care of dogs and chickens. Turns out I liked it.

I take more Marshall time now. That's a good thing.
I deserve it.
But I'm also terrible busy.

In Jazz Band, we're playing a kinda ****** piece instead of one that we've been working so ******* and I feel kind of betrayed.
I play trombone. Jazz and Wind Ensemble.

I've been ******* more lately and I don't quite know why.
It's not loneliness. I think it's just honest *** drive.

This chick at work is really cool and attractive and I kind of feel bad for leaving because we connect really well.
I want to see if I can get her number.
She has nice eyes and is relaxed with me. I love it.
And her voice is lovely. She's relatively short, that's honestly the only iffy.
And I don't know how old she is.

I'm glad you turned my note into the office.
Don't know why I wrote my whole name on it AND put my emblem in the corner. It's supposed to be a supplement for my name...

I'm sorry that you had to be the one to help me. It should have been somebody who didn't hate me. Kind of upside down, don'tcha think?

I've only had one dream about you since we split. The night after it happened.
I dreamt about Belle the night after that :)

Music doesn't feel as good as it used to. My taste has changed with this schism.
Silverstein still feels good but not as much as it used to. Atreyu is closer to home, but I wore that out. Chiodos is on the plate right now but I feel like that will waste soon. I'm feeling like I should try pop.

Alie, the server manager at work, also my neighbor, is my mother figure. My grandmas are getting old. My aunts have disappeared. My papa is getting old and it saddens me. I love him to death. He was my childhood. I will be the hardest crier at his funeral. I'm tearing up already.
But not yet. He still cooks. He still laughs. And loves.


You will never read this. And that's okay.
I needed this. Not you. Me.

Cause I'm ******* awesome and no other should be able to drag me down.
Because they will ALWAYS try.

(I still want *** though. Emily is one of the things my brain thinks about, but when I'm fantasizing alone in the dark or shower or something, I always think of Belle. Every time. I can't shake her and I don't want to. She is the dream.)
(But so is MY future. I just hope she's part of it, but if not entirely, that's okay. I want to be a pharmacist. Or something like that. Preferably pharmacist. I've looked up a lot on how to make it happen.)
(7-11 Coffee is my favorite. But Dee's is really good too.)

Te Amo.
~M

You don’t deserve it, but you may get it,
And I will be happy for you.

And if it breaks you again, I’ll smile and laugh;
And if you manage to go the whole way with him,
I’ll laugh even harder, out of joy this time, not sadism.

I will never support you, nor detach you again,
I got my revenge, and you got yours.

I hope you make it, because you gave him so much,
And he gave you some too; But you both took- stole.

I hope you make it because you have ruined countless lives for this,
And if it fails, it will all be for naught.

Make it work, Miss Renner, because if you don’t,
*The dead weight of your victims will multiply.

Forbade from view, the bluebird sits silent,
And writes to her love, an undeserving kingfisher,
The playful and ignorant fisher, too quick,
Insults and praises to the bluest of birds,
    Dedicating his faithless being to his love,
        Like tipping the Styx ferry in pyrite,
                    He does not know.
He’s never lied, but his truth is faded.
Faithful to him she is, and he her,
        Though unsure of his faith,
        El Rey is in pain.

Like butterfly wings, her eyes,
Flapping.
Every blink a gust.
Every thread a hue.
Searching for scents,
A new flower or two.
Or
Just one.

A Great Dane named Matilda.
That's what I wanted.
You wanted children.
You want to be a veterinary doctor.
I want to be a chemist.

Your birth mother was gorgeous.
I'm sorry about her.
I'm sorry for everything.

I once thought it must be difficult going insane.

*But I’m here.

Me llamas Dante,
Soy del infierno,
Soy del corazón,
Soy de mi pasada.

Si soy de nuestro porvenir,
Amas me.

Yo soy.

The way a woman sings can make my heart melt.
How she accentuates the consonants in "****" can turn me on.
What level of dressing she will let me see her in consoles me.
Her willingness to hold my arm when we walk together,
How easily she shakes my hand when I first meet her,
Can change everything.

Really though, just kiss me.
I'm easy.

And surprisingly respectable. I miss that summer.

Seeing people capitalize the light of morning.

It will be my own hands.

Narcissistic, overconfident, underskilled and I.

The needle tore a hole two nights ago,
I didn't bite my tongue.
But it stung.

And bled. Slightly.
The lines lead
     to more lines,
Each was easier. Slightly.

And when I walked away for the night,
Come day I was clean.
And now I wear short sleeves.
Cause they can ask me "Did it Hurt?"
     And I will say "Ask Reznor, not Cash."

I can hear the song that I was to write, but words don't describe music well.